


If Something Should Ever Happen To Patroclus -

by Palebluedot



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles POV, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pelion Fic, Pining, dumb greek boys in love, kinda???, my title makes me a horrible person and i am not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always been told he was the fastest boy in the world, but never before had he so desperately needed this to be the truth as he did then, thin branches whipping his face as he ran through the trees, clutching Patroclus tight to his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Something Should Ever Happen To Patroclus -

**Author's Note:**

> There was a throwaway sort of line from the chapters on Pelion about how Chiron had taught them medicine when Patroclus fell down a ravine and broke his arm, and all I could think of was "okay but how worried was Achilles" and then this happened.

Seeing him fall stopped Achilles' heart as if the life had blown out of him. They had been exploring some corner of the forest they had never walked to before, when the earth had just _stopped_ beneath their feet. Achilles caught himself in time to avoid tumbling down the jagged, rocky sides of the ravine. Patroclus did not. For a moment, he seemed to be suspended in time, teetering on the edge, and then he was gone, disappearing with a yelp of surprise, Achilles' arm still outstretched uselessly in front of him, his too-late warning dying on his lips.

Achilles was not far behind him. He all but dove after Patroclus, skidding and sliding all the way, cutting the thick skin of his heels to ribbons. When he reached the bottom of the ditch, he found Patroclus bleeding, eyes screwed shut, clutching his arm like he was afraid it would surely fall off should he release it.

Panic flared in Achilles' gut as he knelt down beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked again and again, hardly leaving time for a reply.

“My arm, it's – something is...something is wrong,” Patroclus managed to pant out. “Let me – ” And with that, the fool began an attempt to stand.

Achilles did not give him the chance. Without a word, he lifted Patroclus into his arms, taking care not to lay a hand on the arm he had injured. “Hold tight to me.” Patroclus nodded and obeyed, and Achilles began to run.

He had always been told he was the fastest boy in the world, but never before had he so desperately needed this to be the truth as he did then, thin branches whipping his face as he ran through the trees, clutching Patroclus tight to his chest. _Chiron will know what to do. He must._

Ever the patient teacher, Chiron silenced Achilles' frantic account, and calmly told them both exactly what had happened to Patroclus to make his arm so swollen and misshapen, showed them how to mix the herbs that would dull the pain some, and ward off infection. Then, he demonstrated how to properly set a fractured bone. That had been the worst part by far. The _snap_ of it had been sickening, yes, but the way Patroclus screamed was what tore through Achilles' heart like a knife. Patroclus did not let go of Achilles' hand for a moment, and squeezed his fingers fiercely enough to make him bite on his bottom lip against the sting of it, but Achilles did not pull away, only squeezed back as best he could.

The rest had not been so terrible. The cuts and scrapes on Patroclus' legs were trivial, according to Chiron. (There was entirely too much blood for Achilles to judge the wounds to be “trivial”, but he believed Chiron when he told them they would heal quickly.) He advised them that walking might be difficult for Patroclus for the next day or two, but he trusted that Achilles would help him get around?

Wise as he was, he should have known better than to think he had to ask.

Achilles guided Patroclus' uninjured arm around his shoulders, and carefully led him to bed. Patroclus closed his eyes nearly immediately. Achilles was not surprised. It had been a harrowing day.

 _He is going to be alright_ , Achilles reminded himself. _Chiron gave me his word_. Achilles turned over to watch him sleep awhile, as was his habit. His breaths were coming slow and even, and his face was peaceful. The only evidence of the day's horrors was the slim cut just above his eyebrow, the bandages Achilles wound tightly around his arm. He had insisted that Chiron teach him how to do that much himself, not just show him – what if Patroclus was ever hurt badly while Chiron was away? Achilles had to know how to help him. If something were ever to happen to Patroclus...he did not know what he would do.

In the morning, Achilles would curse himself for what he did next – he never allowed himself to behave in such a careless manner for a reason. What if his mother should see, and separate them again? Or worse, do some unspeakable harm to Patroclus directly? He could not allow it. But he was so deeply thankful that Patroclus was not more badly hurt, that he had not left him for good, that he could not stop himself from leaning forward and placing a light, yet lingering, kiss to his forehead.

 _Thank you for following me,_ he thought for perhaps the hundredth, the thousandth time. _I am never happier than when you are with me._

With no small amount of reluctance, Achilles retreated back to his own side of their bed and closed his eyes. He fell asleep swiftly, and did not see the boy next to him slowly open his eyes, and, awestruck, touch his fingertips to his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Might revamp this one later because it's like 1:00 AM I'm falling asleep and this probably doesn't make sense. But I wanted to post today so. Here it is.


End file.
